I heard the verdict he pronounced in utter fear and dread..
Half of those with my condition within a year are dead.
I must not yield, must not give up, I have a life to save.
And yet I feel this chill like someone walking on my grave.
Grant me the grace to make my fight but don't let me pretend.
That failure is impossible right to the bitter end.
I'll need the help of my good friends If I am to survive.
I think of all I've loved the best; were all my choices wise?
If they but love as I have loved I cannot be undone
They will stand by me at least until my race is run.
They are like the stars for constancy, who, although unseen at times.,
in the dark night of the soul is when they brightest shine,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem